Broken Glass
by NYPD8433
Summary: As Mac struggles to cope with the tragic events of his late wife's death, can he over come the challenges life throws at him with his friends and time. An unsolved case from long ago forces them to dive into the both of their pasts. A trip to New Orleans with Jo changes everything & with Christine gone, Mac begins to find love again but obstacles have a habit of getting in the way.
1. Pain

Chapter One - Pain

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**_Disclaimer:_**

**_Unfortunately, I do not own CSI (Lets face it, if I did I wouldn't be writing this for fanfiction, It would be shown on telly)  
I do not own the Characters except Bertie and the Criminals/Victims in this chapter. Part of this Chapter is my interpretation of an episode that was actually shown on CSI NY (Season 8, Episode 1)  
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_September 11__th__ 2001, New York_

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Light spilt into the bedroom of the Taylor's apartment as the sun rose in New York, it was a beautiful start to the day, with not a cloud in the sky, it did not stir Claire but gradually Mac's eyes flickered open. Claire's face was buried into his chest as his arm circled round her and so she was shadowed from the somewhat unwelcoming light. He looked down at her, thinking that all he really wanted was to stay like this all day. Mac looked over at the alarm and contemplated calling in sick, with regret he knew that wasn't very responsible of him, especially as he'd just been promoted to assistant supervisor at the lab. Claire snuggled into Mac as she woke, wrapping her free hand around his waist and lay her head on his chest.  
"Hey" She said sleepily, closing her eyes again, hoping to get another 10 minutes of shut eye before they had to get up.  
"Morning sleepy head." Mac said, leaning down to her head and planting a kiss in her hair.  
Claire's only response was a grumble as her head moved with the gentle rising and falling of Mac's breathing.  
"Guess what?" He said with a hint seriousness in his velvet like voice.  
Claire lent back on her elbow to face him, resting her hand behind her head, "What?" she questioned.  
"I love you Claire Conrad Taylor."  
She hit him playfully on the chest, with a wide grin, "I love you too, McKenna Boyd Taylor Jr."  
Mac groaned at his lengthy name, smiled and kissed her before he rolled out of the sheets, forcing himself to get up.

He left Claire in their bedroom to get changed while he went to take a shave. He flipped the radio switch on and it played the first station that it found, he didn't care, it was just background noise. While he was still alone, he checked that the opera tickets were still where he'd left them last week, in the cotton bud pot. A smile played on his face, knowing she hadn't found them and that it was still a surprise.

Just as Mac finished shaving, he cut himself slightly with the razor causing him to bleed. A single drop of blood dripped from his the shallow wound in his left cheek into the hand basin below.  
Inspecting the cut, "Dammit" he murmured to himself, although Claire had heard and seen all of it, smirking she picked up the phone from the stand and stood in the door way opposite the mirror.  
"Yeah, Hi. 911. Urh, My husband seems to be performing some sort of self-mutilation ceremony…" Mac smiled to himself, seeing her in the mirror happily poking fun at him. She walked into the bathroom and continued with her phantom conversation over the phone. "Yeah, it seems to be inspired by one of those boy bands." She paused as if listening to the person on the other end of the line. "I dunno, urm hang on." She lowered the phone from her ear and whispered to Mac "She wants to know if you got a good look at 'em." To which Mac just laughed, rubbing his cheek with tissue in an attempt to make the bleeding subside. Claire put the phone back to her ear "Well 5 white guys. Urm. Questionable sexual orientation. One of them has curly hair and this impossibly high voice." Laughing herself now, she finished "Right Okay, thank you." She pressed the end button on the phone to make it beep, not that she was fooling anyone and turned to Mac. "They want you to go view a line up later on tonight." She laughed, "Move over" and with that she used her body to nudge Mac out of the way so she could use the mirror too. Mac finished drying his hands on a towel and thought to himself, I'll bite. "Ahh, tonight's no good." He told her, smiling but with a serious tone.  
"Why? You have yoga tonight?" She said, teasing him some more. A smile formed on his face and with a nod, he replied to her sarcastic comment with "I'm goin' to the opera."  
"Wha'du you mean, you're goin' to the opera?"  
"I mean I'm going to the opera tonight. Claire would you hand me one of those things …" He raised his hand to point to the cotton bud pot where the surprise was hidden, but was cut off mid sentence.  
"No. Who you goin' to the opera with" her accent became more prominent as she desperately questioned him.  
Mac inwardly smiled to himself, "John from the robbery squad." He played along, as now the tables had now turned.  
Claire stood there open mouthed for a few long seconds, not quite believing what she was hearing, and then she repeated what he'd said in question form. "John from the robbery squad. You're going to the opera with John from the robbery squad?" she was hurt, and shocked.  
"Yeah, that's right, he's an opera buff. Claire would you hand me one of those …" Again he was cut off mid sentence as he pointed in the direction he wanted her to search. "I've been asking you to take me to the opera for…" She turned to the cotton bud pot anyway "I…I don't even know how long." She replied miserably, "and now you're telling me, that." She stopped short, realising she'd been had. Suddenly, her grin reappeared and she sighed feeling a little daft. She picked up the tickets and span around.  
"Nicely Done" She told him, looking into her husband's beautiful eyes.  
"John from the robbery squad is gonna be very disappointed" Mac joked and leaned into kiss her. They had been married for some time now, he was the love of her life, but they still acted like newly weds on a day-to-day basis.  
Claire spotted that he'd missed washing off all the shaving foam, and there was still a white foamy blob on his ear. She wiped it off lovingly and stoked his cheek.  
"What would you do without me?" She asked with a smile. It was not something that Mac particularly wanted to think about, but as she said it, he honestly did not know.

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_January 30__th__ 2002, New York_

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Mac raised his hand to his forehead and rubbed his temples. He'd fallen into a restless and uncomfortable slumber at work, a new habit of his that had developed over the last four months. The 38 year old rubbed his chin wisely as he looked over the case file he'd fallen asleep on.  
The homicide case detailed a woman that had presumably taken a short cut through central park and was found in the south western area, dumped in the shrubbery. However blood spatter indicated that she had been killed at the scene along the path. She had been brutally stabbed and strangled with a thin twine or wire. The intimacy of the attack suggested that this was not random and the killer knew their victim, the stabbing indicated that this murder had been a crime of passion. The clothing in which she was dressed revealed that she was most likely a prostitute and had been working the streets.

Dr. Sheldon Hawkes had examined the body in autopsy and could tell them nothing particularly distinctive about the murder weapons. He however could deduce that prior to her death she had been stabbed in the abdomen. His official Report stated that due to the severe damage to her trachea, the COD was strangulation. She had not been aloud to bleed out from her earlier injuries before the final act of violence took place. The sexual assault kit came back negative and epithelial DNA that was recovered from the scene found no match in CODIS, the killer was in the wind. Unfortunately the victim was also still unidentified, and so become just another Jane Doe despite the CSI's efforts to name her. Her Fingerprints were run through AFIS, her DNA and description were ran through the missing persons database but on every account they had come up empty handed. Nobody at the scene would admit to knowing her, it seemed she'd built up quite a reputation for herself and people tended to steer clear, distancing themselves from trouble.

At the lab it was 5am and nobody had arrived at work yet not even the boss, Detective Rick Calucci. Mac used to dream of running the lab someday, but the dreams he had were the dreams he'd once shared with Claire. Claire had gone and he was left alone with nothing except an empty void in his heart, all of his hopes and dreams had been shattered instantly the moment the towers fell.  
At the thought, pain gripped his heart with a harsh, unwelcome tug causing him to jolt forward. It felt like a wrench was twisting his very soul into a dark pit of misery and depression. Sadness clenched at his chest and anguish ran through his veins. The pit of his stomach churned and he felt like he was being swallowed whole by antagonizing pain, sinking in his own miserable state, like quick sand he was disappearing. He bit his lip in an attempt to hold his emotions in, a skill that he was certainly learning although he had always been a private man.

He closed his eyes and pretended, just for a moment, that it was this time last year. He and Claire would have more than likely been in bed, possibly talking about nothing of importance or perhaps he'd be watching her sleep, perfectly moulding into his arms. He would have been able to smell her hair and feel her body heat next to him, and he would have been able to kiss her whenever he felt the need. There were many things that he missed dearly about Claire, but most of all he missed her smile. Her smile made the birds sing their beautiful song in a natural orchestra, she could make the sun shine on rainy days, and every time he saw her happiness it warmed his heart. Her smile was the reason he'd fallen in love. If he could go back, just for one day, he would whisper 'I love you' a million more times just to make sure she knew just how much he cared. Now that he knew the days they had together were numbered, he whished they'd spent every second they had together like it was their last, making the most out of the life they had together.

It saddened him greatly that he'd never been given the opportunity to say good-bye properly, they'd never found her body and she'd never been buried. She was still in limbo. A small part of Mac still clung onto the hope that she was still alive out there somewhere. Perhaps she'd been injured and couldn't remember what had happened, when the thought crawled across his mind his heart practically leapt out of his chest. But in reality he knew that this was unlikely, he'd searched for several months and he'd found nothing, no trace at all.  
Images filled his mind while mixed emotions surfaced, they were happy memories and he was thankful for the time they had together, but he had been split in two the day she died. Emotional daggers tore right through his very soul, cutting him up inside. A silent tear rolled down his cheek and splashed onto the case file below.

Mac knew that he'd stayed here all night because he was too afraid to face his lonely apartment. Too many things reminded him of Claire. It was too painful. Mac often wondered why Claire? Why had she been taken from him? What had they done to deserve this? But he never found an answer. His prayers never answered.  
His heart no longer felt like an organ, instead it was a ticking time bomb waiting to self-destruct. But nothing ever happened. His heartache was like a battle wound that never healed; he was bleeding out and in pain, his suffering just continued to drone on, never subsiding. What scared him the most, was that he was growing accustom to the pain.  
A lot of people had died on that tragic day, many people had to suffer with the unbearable consequences at the hands of other human beings. Although, Mac doubted this fact and assumed that anyone capable of doing this was an animal with an evil, one-track mind. They were not people.

Mac jumped when his boss heavily placed a hand of his shoulder, he had not noticed him arrive.  
"Taylor." Detective Calucci stated loudly in a very native New York accent. When his boss took that tone with him he always dreaded the lecture that followed.  
"Mac." He continued, taking a seat opposite his co-worker. "This. Is not healthy" He declared with authority, and looked off into the distance as if he was calculating exactly how to word what he wanted to say next. Mac rolled his eyes. "I can't have you so tired you can't work, staying up all night is not doing anyone any good." The older man said, deciding it was still too early to talk to him about Claire, who he himself had been very fond of. "You need to be able to concentrate on the case." The boss lightly threw his open hand on the table and left it there, suggesting that he was frustrated and disappointed in his employee. Mac irritably looked down at the case in hand. What exactly did the boss propose he was doing?

Mac fought hard to discourage the urge to yawn. Knowing that if he so much as blinked a few to many times, Detective Calucci would send him home to his empty apartment for some rest that he'd never get. Being half dead at work was by far a better option.

"This case is a month old." Calucci observed pointing the photo on the lab desk. He screwed up his face thoughtfully, remembering the details. "Wasn't that Bonasera's case?" he shook his head disapprovingly at him. Not only was he working 24/7, but he was also picking up any case to work on just as a distraction.

"Well we originally were both assigned to work the case but then another came in and you assigned me to that." Mac took a few seconds to remember, " It was the apparent murder-suicide on 23rd park. We caught the guy responsible." Mac said, shrugging the disappointment off. He didn't think that this was a big deal and was getting increasingly agitated with his boss and they way he was being treated. "This case" Mac lifted it up, "is still unsolved." he lightly threw the folder back on the desk "I thought a fresh look at it might help."  
"Have you solved it?" Calucci asked, knowing full well he hadn't.  
Mac looked down dejectedly, "No." he replied, feeling bitter.  
"The crime lab is not a one-man-band, Taylor. We are not super heroes. We work together, as a team."  
In all honesty Mac didn't really pay a lot of attention, nor did he want to be a super hero. He was still thinking about the case and besides that, he was helping out a friend and that was teamwork in his book. He wanted to catch the criminal responsible and throw them in prison. The idea that the killer was somewhere out there and not yet behind bars sickened him; he felt the same about any unsolved case.

For the remainder of the conversation Mac aimlessly nodded along with what was being said. Out of what he heard, his boss was trying to convey that if Mac wanted to protect the city; he had to look after himself. Mac however, was in no mood to be patronized. He didn't care what other people thought of his methods of coping, he was quite capable of the tasks at hand. Sinclair wouldn't have given him a promotion 6 months ago if that hadn't been the case. He was now the second in command as the assistant supervisor at the lab. The previous older gentleman had gone into retirement and Calucci practically begged Sinclair to give Mac the promotion.  
A smile shadowed over his face as he remembered telling Claire and how she'd been more excited about it that he had. A warm glow of happiness shone through his heart.

Finally Detective Calucci left, and the room returned to silence once again. The only sound was the gentle tick of a clock that was hung on the wall. Under the tension, Mac thought that soon his heart might detonate.

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Somehow three hours seemed to disappear, and another five cups of coffee later the rest of the team slowly arrived for their shift at the New York Crime Lab. Mac couldn't be totally sure whether he'd fallen into another restless state of sleep during that time or not.

Through the glass panel in the door, Mac could see that Stella had been beckoned into the boss's office. Mac watched him accuse her of letting him have the Central Park Jane Doe case file. When actually Mac had simply run out of things to do by midnight and so looked at the most recent unsolved case. Stella didn't admit the fact that Mac had picked up the file of his own accord, although she would have appreciated a heads up. Instead she shouted back, telling her superior that if that's the way Mac was dealing with the situation, then he should be left to deal with it in his own way. Mac couldn't help but smile a little when he saw his boss go purple in the face with rage as Stella stormed out. She was not in the greatest of moods and she was glad to let some of her frustration out.

The lab was silent for a few minutes and Mac could feel the uneasy rift that shadowed throughout the building, it emanated from Calucci's office where the boss was pacing to and fro across the room. Suddenly, a cheery Detective Don Flack dramatically walked through the doors. Today was his first day as a Homicide Detective and as always he was feeling confident. He had been looking forward to this promotion and working closely with the crime lab. He pulled his slightly too long hair away from his eyes and looked around. Stella had calmed a little after letting off some steam and approached him,  
"Can I help you?" She asked kindly with a smile.  
Don put his hand out, "Detective Don Flack" he announced proudly from which he received a wider smile.  
"Detective Stella Bonasera" she replied shaking his hand. She was happy to meet him, she'd just read an upside down file that had been on The Boss' desk, from the information she'd interpreted, she was excited to work with him. Don had not been a detective long, and already he had been promoted to a lead homicide Detective. This, Stella was impressed by.  
"If you'd like to follow me..." Stella said and they began walking through the old building.  
"We still stop for snacks? Right?" Don looked at her with a serious expression plastered on his ridiculously handsome face, slightly concerned. A bright grin spread across her face and she nodded, it was little things like that, which made her day. Don looked genuinely relieved.  
"Good." He was feeling a little dumb for having to ask the question, but he had to ask just in case.

Stella led the way to the conference room where she could leave the new detective for 10 minutes while she ran a few errands. He did feel a little embarrassed just standing there alone, but he didn't let it knock his ego, he was in a far too good mood for that.

Mac put away the evidence of the Jane Doe case and returned the file to Stella with the full intention of solving it sooner or later.  
"Mac, Calucci has a point. You look exhausted." Stella admitted from which she received a slight scowl.  
"I'm fine." He protested awkwardly, he knew he looked a state and really had no grounds on which to argue.

Before the two went back to the conference room, they bought coffee from the vending machines along the hallway that desperately needed to be replaced much like most of the equipment in the building. Hell, in the humble opinion of Stella, the whole building needed to be replaced!  
"Two at once?" Mac asked suspiciously when Stella picked up two cups. "What? You tired too?" He joked cynically.  
"No, I have a new friend." She laughed when the response she got was the raised eyebrow look.

Don introduced himself to Mac in the conference room and they shook hands. Mac was tired unlike the enthusiastic detective, however Mac didn't hold it against him and smiled politely  
Don was glad of Mac's acceptance, he'd heard many different things about him and had been quite apprehensive this morning.  
The team slowly but surely filtered through the doors, ready to be briefed for the day. Aiden Burn was the newest member of the forensics team; she'd started work as a CSI a month prior to the towers falling. She was eagerly sat at the table waiting for a case; she loved the job she did. Catching criminals and putting them away was her part in society, it's all she ever wanted to do, except in 3rd Grade when she'd wanted to be a lion after visiting the circus for the first time.

Other than Mac, Stella, and Aiden, there was only one other CSI sat at the table; he was bored and subsequently playing with a pen. This was 45 year old Albert Smith or to anyone that knew him 'Bertie'. He no longer enjoyed his job and was in the process of switching careers. He now wanted to be a chef with his wife in a restaurant they'd just inherited; he'd handed in his notice and was just waiting the time out. Before Calucci arrived there was one other lab employee in the room. A technician named Joseph King had also appeared; he was the link between the CSI's on the field and the technicians in the lab. Even he couldn't fathom why Calucci insisted on him being there for briefing, especially when they were starting all new cases and he had nothing to report.

The last in was head of the NYPD crime lab, Detective Calucci. Walking in, he excused himself for being late.  
"Okay guys." He greeted them quickly before diving straight into business. "We have a domestic violence case in Brooklyn." He looked around the room briefly and then directly at Aiden who had grown up in the area. "Burn, you take that with Smith." 'Bertie' the whole room mentally corrected the boss in their heads. Aiden and Bertie nodded to each other agreeing that they could handle it without any problems.  
"Yes Sir." Aiden said and stood up to take the case out of his hand. They then left quietly with the assignment.  
"Second we have a hit and run case." He looked at Mac to see whether he was paying attention, Mac had been. Calucci rapidly decided that Mac and he still needed to talk and so looked at Stella. "Bonasera?" Stella stood up and almost snatched the file from him; she was still annoyed with him from their earlier encounter and she still did not appreciate his tone.  
When Mac didn't get asked to go with her, he piped up. "I thought we had to work as a team?"  
Stella raised an eyebrow to hear his response, which unfortunately was just a lame excuse. "Well I have to find another CSI," He mentally cursed Bertie. "The hit and run shouldn't be a too dangerous case and she'll be there with other officers. She _should_ be happy I gave her a solo case." He paused and shot a puzzled look at Flack who was staring deeply into his empty cardboard cup. While Stella thought 'she' is the cat's mother.

After a few seconds of long silence Don realised they were waiting on him, "Detective Don Flack" he stepped forward and shook Calucci's hand firmly. Don was smiling as always but received a stern look from the older Detective, causing Don's smile to swiftly drop.

"Flack can go with her. I need you with me." Calucci finished, facing Mac again. Stella turned and skilfully rolled her eyes at Mac without the boss noticing.  
"Sir." She said with a hint of sarcasm in her voice that only Mac picked up on. She then left along with Don and the lab technician.  
"So, what have we got?" Mac asked  
"A fight at a bar that ended in murder."  
'Great' Mac thought sarcastically to himself. Murderers need to be behind bars not drinking at them.

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They arrived at the crime scene; it was a small bar with little advertisement, it was hidden away down a dodgy looking ally. Police officers were scattered around outside taking statements from witnesses that had been inside at the time of the shooting.  
When the two detectives entered the gloomy looking place, they saw a man in his mid to late 20's lying face down in a pool of his own blood.  
"They're all singing the same song." A sergeant said approaching them. "With a few variations of course." He deliberately added implying that nobody around here was trustworthy.  
"What are they saying?" Calucci inquired, ignoring what the man had intended to convey.  
"Self Defence" he replied with one solemn nod at the two detectives. "Looks like you got your work cut out for you here." and with that he nodded in the direction towards the body.  
"Well let's see what the evidence has to say." Mac replied irritably, knowing that sometimes it was the obvious looking cases that turned out to be the most twisted or the most dangerous. Calucci shot him a look, telling him to calm down or home is where he'd be. Mac sunk slightly and knelt by the dead body.

"The Vic's name is Christopher Brown. Wallet and keys were on the bar." The police officer stated in an irritating manor again, holding up the items with one hand and pointing to where he found them with the other. 'Victim.' Already aggravated, Mac corrected the officer in his thoughts. Christopher Brown deserved some respect.

The ME cleared the body and waited patiently for evidence surrounding the body to be collected and photographs to be taken.

"Taylor," Calucci began again. Mac closed his eyes as he felt another lecture coming on. Maybe the head of the NYPD Crime lab should spend more time working and less time winging at him.

"Yeah," he answered after a few long seconds when nothing further was said.  
"You are great Detective." He said looking down, and then he raised his head back up to Mac to show that he meant what he was saying. "And I only lecture you because I worry." He paused again feeling a little daft, not usually did he have heart to hearts with his employee's, and this was new for him.

"Over the past few weeks I've come to realize I'm not as young as I used to be and…" He stalled as the words got caught in his throat, slightly reluctant to say what he was about to. "And perhaps I've done my part. Done my time." This had not been what Mac was expecting.  
"I want to leave the Lab to someone I know and trust, not some hot shot who doesn't know the first thing about the streets of New York." Mac could see where this was going and painfully, it dawned on him that life was continuing without Claire. He had thought that Claire was his world.  
"I was thinking," Unsure of the sentence when he started, he stopped but he finished with great confidence, "you'd do the lab proud." Calucci smiled; slightly embarrassed at the way he'd dealt with the situation. Mac was in a minor state of shock, but he smiled at the compliment, it wasn't often Calucci praised his co-workers.

Mac picked up a bullet fragment with a pair of tweezers and carefully dropped it into an evidence bag. He opened his mouth to protest but Calucci interrupted.  
"Just think about it." In return Mac nodded. The boss stood up and left.

"I think you'd make an absolutely superb boss" the ME said honestly, Mac tried to pay attention but his restless nights were promptly catching up with him, somehow he failed to notice her very distinct accent. He smiled at her, he would have spoken, but for the fact he couldn't remember what she'd said.

A body bag was brought to the scene where the victim was prepared for transportation.

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Mac was just finishing up, most of the police officers had departed, the ME had taken the body back to the lab and only he and Calucci were left doing any work.  
"Run this through with me" Calucci said, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.  
"Okay."  
"You be the perp." He said pointing directly at Mac "We are sat having a beer together." He turned and paced a few steps forward, "At seven o'clock in the morning." he judged disapprovingly, but continued nonetheless, "Why would I take a swing at you first?"  
"Maybe it's something I said." Mac offered, nearly along with a yawn but he managed to contain himself. "We'll have to wait for the Toxicology report but I'm guessing they were both heavily intoxicated with alcohol."

Detective Calucci walked across the room and gestured with his hand expressing his confusion, and then he paced back to stand over the blood pool with Mac. "Why would you bring a gun?"

"Oh, so the 5-oh don't know nuffin" The two detectives both span around suddenly at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. To their horror the voice was attached to a man who had a gun aimed at them.

"And who might you be?" Calucci asked carefully. He then raised his hand, suggesting that the man should lower his weapon.

"Ryan Walters," The African American reluctantly mumbled. He then shifted from one foot to the other, obviously nervous.

"I don't want to see; you, my friend here, or I get hurt." Calucci replied calmly with caution.

"I didn't mean to!" The man wailed, took a look into the blood pool and shook his head from side to side and.

"Is this a confession?" Calucci asked, stepping towards the perpetrator and he then reached for the man's gun with his extended hand. This was a fatal mistake; Ryan shook angrily with fear and hate and the gun was fired. A hot bullet was shot into Calucci's left leg. The sound of the gunshot rang in their ears long after the weapon discharged. The boss roared out in pain as he stumbled on his way to the ground. Within a flash Mac drew his weapon and fired, killing Ryan before he hit the wooden floorboards below. Mac immediately went to Calucci, applying pressure to his wound. Looking down, Mac noticed there was an awful amount of blood; he just hoped that most of it had been from the earlier incident. By now a couple of officers had arrived from the sound of the commotion and an ambulance had been called.

"Taylor," Calucci struggled for breath.  
"Hang on in there. Help is on the way," Mac replied loudly and in haste shaking him, in an attempt to keep him from falling unconscious.

"Mac." he said more sternly, forcing Mac to listen. "Make Claire proud."

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**_AN_**

**_Thank you for reading my first Chapter if you would be kind enough to review, you would make my day.  
I have a general idea in my head to where I'd like the story to go (providing my readers like chapter one)  
Unfortunately, I can not guarantee when chapters will be uploaded, I am eye ball deep in revision for exams later this month, but I am keen to write._**

**_Please Review (:  
_**


	2. Detective Danny Messer

**_AN  
I know its been over a week since I last updated :/ I hope this chapter makes up for the long wait 3_**

Also something that I neglected to mention earlier, Detective Rick Calucci was what CBS were going to call **_Mac before Gary Sinise got the part (In my opinion, CSI NY would be crap with out Gary Sinise.) Anyway they Changed it to Taylor in honer of the Forest Gump Part_** _**that Sinise played.**_ **_I decided to make Calucci the boss before hand... Hope this makes sense (:_**

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Chapter 2 – Detective Danny Messer

The funeral was a few days after; dark rain clouds loomed overhead and threatened the ceremony below. Not many people attended of which Detective Rick Calucci actually knew well, he didn't have much of a family. Similarly to Mac, his wife had died; he'd had no children and lived alone. Mrs. Calucci's untimely death was due to a freak car accident that happened a few years ago, leaving him distraught and somewhat antisocial. Many people from the police and fire department went to formally pay their respects to a great leader and highly regarded Detective, who had lead the crime lab for 9 years straight. It was a sweet tribute to a man that had not always the easiest person to get along with, he would be remembered for his kindness as he always had everyone's best interests at heart.

It brought deep sadness upon everyone within in the team that Detective Calucci had passed so suddenly, especially for the fact that he had been thinking of retirement before this tragic event occurred. Stella was one of the most upset and wished that she hadn't have gotten so frustrated with her boss that day, she stood drowning with tears of guilt. Bertie was in deep thought also, his boss never called him by his nickname, he regretted not making a personal connection, now it was clear to him how these missed opportunities were spent. Then again on the same note he did always, without fail, call them all by their last names and in return they were expected called him 'sir' out of the professional respect they had for one another. The rest of the grieving group were all thinking that he never really knew how much the team valued his friendship, they never really gave him the chance to see it. In that respect, they were all filled with deep regret.

After the incident, the autopsy later concluded that the injury Calucci had sustained had ruptured the femoral artery in his leg and he bled out before the paramedic's arrival. Mac had done everything he could to prevent the inevitable, but he still wished there was something more that he could have done. It didn't seem fair that a man that had done nothing but good in society was brought down like this, he deserved better. Everyone deserved an honorable death in his opinion. Dying at the hands of someone who they later discovered was a low life drug dealer was far from dignified.

Mac could somehow see his future ending up like this. No family to speak of, unless you counted his mother, Millie. If Mac reached the age of 68 like Detective Calucci had, Millie would be at the grand age of 103. The seemingly fearless man feared he would die alone. There was once a time where Mac had dreamed of raising children and having a family, he somehow always felt that he wasn't ready. He didn't want to disappoint Claire. He didn't want to disappoint himself. He was 39 this year; he knew he wasn't past it he however also knew that being without Claire, his chance of having children had seriously depleted, he didn't want a family without her. He had often been told that he would make a great father, now he regretted that he would never get the chance.

It was heavily raining, and under the sudden down pour, crowds were forming around the people wise enough to bring umbrellas. Except for Mac, who stood alone with his umbrella, which he held with one hand while the other was tucked away in the warmth of his pocket. He cast himself away and was slightly off set from the rest of the team, who huddled also seeking warmth and together, they mourned in grief. Mac was in deep thought, carefully deliberating over the last words that were ever spoken by his boss, "Make Claire proud."

When Detective Rick Calucci was dying in his arms, Mac decided there and then to for fill the dying man's wishes and make Claire proud.

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Mac was the youngest man to become the head of the NYPD crime lab, however most people expected nothing but the best from him, he was an ex marine, he was focused and he more than qualified for the position. Reassuringly, he had the full support of the team and the rest of people that worked in the lab. A small part of his heart broke every time he realized that life was moving on, he knew it was just a factor of life that everybody lives and everybody dies, it was after all just the circulation of the world's existence, but never did he expect that he'd have to face the world alone.  
A quiet spell fell onto the lab; the employee's were still in mourning for their previous boss. Sinclair, Mac, and some other official looking people stood in the late boss's office deciding the next steps forward. After some slow and pain staking deliberation, they accepted Mac for the vacancy. They had to consider Mac's personal situation, however despite this they came to the conclusion that because it was Calucci's wishes and, before he died, he had recommended Mac for the position, Mac should become the next Supervisor of the NYPD crime lab. When Calucci first suggested his leave, nobody was particularly surprised and had expected the detective to share his opinion on his replacement. Sinclair and Calucci had been close; he was one of the only close friends that Calucci regarded higher than an acquaintance, his sudden departure hit Sinclair hard. Although he trusted Calucci's opinion, Sinclair had given Mac the Job to only to alleviate his own newfound political pressure; he doubted the man's ability. Aside from Sinclair, they never fluctuated from believing in Calucci. Mac would be an excellent fit for the lab; he was already part of the furniture.

On Friday evening, the case they had been working came to a close neatly and on time. Stella pestered Mac to leave and get a good night's rest before Monday when officially it was finalized of his new title. Not that he particularly wanted the title in the first place; all he wanted was to simply _make Claire proud_. Mac did not listen to Stella's demands; he found her words rather troublesome and he did not like being dictated to. He waited the day out and then found that someone had misplaced some important files on the last assault case, and so he had a peculiar time trying to relocate them, which in the end they were found in amongst some evidence and in a fruit bowl.  
He went home a couple hours after his shift ended, which in Mac terms was incredibly early, especially since he hadn't stepped into that building for the best part of a week. His apartment didn't feel like a home anymore, it was a just an apartment building in which he lived, occasionally. Going home was a hard and difficult task, he didn't like the idea of what was awaiting for him inside. In the apartment there would be no one, nothing but silent emptiness, he lied to himself as he unlocked the door. The apartment did have something hidden inside and he knew it, pain, hurt and memories lingered inside. As he stepped through, a series of knots formed in the pit of his stomach, tying him down. He struggled to cope with the agony he faced when confronted with what used to be _their _apartment. A blade cut through the defensive wall that he'd begun to build around himself and struck him down, A vice wrapped around him tormenting him, in a few long seconds in the unbearable heat from hell, his defensives dropped and agonizing hurt spilled from his eyes and a tear ran freely down his cheek. Mac closed the door behind him and took a deep breath, the apartment was full of overwhelming waves of pain. The organ in his chest thudded dully; with every beat it shot deadly poisons into his veins. Daggers were thrust and an aching sensation dissolved into his soul with every second of his existence.  
Deep lacerations impaled into his heart would be reopened when the time came that he unwillingly entered the memories, every recollection he had with Claire assaulted his mind, remembering what he once had.  
He had been in past months, treading on egg shells, still having Claire's things scattered where'd she'd left them four months ago.

Mac held his breath and put his keys on ledge by the door. A new Job title meant a fresh start and a sudden realization meant that the way he was currently living was practically the polar opposite that Claire would have wanted. Another Danger tormented his chest as he struggled for breath. She would have wanted Mac to be okay; she would want him to eat regular meals and sleep in his own bed, she would have wanted him to take care of himself rather than simply wasting away.

For the first time in those agonizing months, he moved the things she'd left around and cleared through his apartment. He got rid of everything that reminded him of Claire. Having a constant reminder at home hurt too much. It was too painful. He knew that some people might think that he was wrong to throw away such sentimental things, but he had to move on at some point. His mind told him to move on, he heart had other ideas. He didn't want to listen to the organ that had put him in this situation in the first place. Now the pain had amounted to great quantities, he wouldn't sit and stare her things any longer; he wanted to block the suffering out. He couldn't take it anymore.

Some of which the things he threw away would seem absurd to an outsider, he threw out her favorite shirt of his; she used to wear it before bed and all day on lazy days. He tried not to picture her wearing it; he knew that if he let his mind look into those memories, the pain would deepen. He gave her clothes to an army salvation charity and he recycled all the Christmas cards that she'd kept. These things were full of sentimental value; these were the things that they'd once built a live with, she was gone and _their_ life had ended.  
Of course there were a few things that he could not bear to give up. He kept a beach ball that she'd blown up for her goddaughter, Gemma who was 6, when they went to visit her best friend's family in Florida last year. Her breath was still inside. Gemma was so insistent that they keep the ball, it was almost as if she knew that one day it would mean the world to him. Mac also kept some photographs, but he put them out of sight in a draw. There were some other items that he locked away in a box and shoved under his bed, such as some opera tickets that he and Claire never got a chance to attend, these things were to be dealt with when the pain healed, he knew though that he'd always be left with a scar. He picked up the beach ball and toyed with it, tears threatened to surface as he slumped down heavily to the floor, pushing his head back slowly to the wall, clutching the ball. Pure sadness coursed through his body, everything that he came across reminded him of Claire, every possession they had memories with caused his heart to stop while he sat and was consumed by a memory for an immeasurable amount of time.  
Thankfully for him, although he was on call, he didn't get dragged away to a crime scene during the time he was clearing out. His apartment had transformed over night and now it was a bare, empty apartment. Not to dissimilar to him, the place now showed no emotion. He couldn't help thinking that something needed to be done to cheer the place up a bit. He reluctantly sighed, the only conclusion that came to mind was that all both the apartment and he needed was Claire.

.  
.

Monday came quicker than expected and Mac stepped through the doors of the old familiar building for the first time in what seemed a long time. The first day at work as the head of the NYPD Crime lab was, to say the least, an interesting task. The first duty that Mac had to address was finding a new CSI for the crime lab, Bertie had only a few days left before he officially left and so time was of the essence.

It felt odd stepping into his new office, some of the lab technicians and Stella had kindly removed the old boss's possessions to send subtle messages that suggested that Mac had a clean slate and he could make this opportunity his own. Mac had been given an office before, it was small and he didn't use it often. When he entered, he ran his hand along the desk and swiveled the chair with his hand before sitting down. He didn't like the feeling that he was stepping into Detective Calucci's shoes; he didn't want to replace his former boss he wanted to be good at job and serve the city well.

He looked down at some folders that had neatly been placed in two piles on the right hand side of the desk next to the computer. With a sideways glance he realized that these were recommendations for the placement that Sinclair had sent over to the lab. With one sweep Mac moved one of the piles closer so he could take a better look.

Detective Malvin Cooke was high on the list; he was a highly qualified, highly experienced, Third Grade CSI with a specialty in DNA profiling. He was 43, and was currently living in Detroit. Mac nodded along with what he was reading, impressed with Sinclair's findings. However a frown formed upon his face when he read the shady part. Due to Cooke's time in the police service as a sergeant, his squeaky clean recorded had been tarnished by a shooting that took place last year.  
Mac rubbed his chin and clicked his computer mouse to access the case details on the computer. Mac sighed irritably and just wondered why. Why was Sinclair even suggesting someone that had already had trouble?  
Officer Cooke single handedly took down a high priority drug smuggling gang on the Detroit borders last May. This seemed like a positive thing, however he appeared to have got too emotionally involved and took a personal vendetta against the leader and killed him. In which the prosecutor argued, cold blood. However his name was cleared due to questionable circumstances and a contradictory in evidence.  
It seemed that the lab was struggling economically as the best Sinclair had to offer was a cop with emotional difficulty and a murder case looming over his shoulders.

Mac thumbed over the page to the next recommendation from Sinclair, Toby Wilson was aged 30 from a small town in Pennsylvania, he had an honors degree in criminology, he'd worked the beat for 5 years before going into forensics but was now fully qualified.

Mac spread the files out on the desk and looked down at them below him, he could see why Calucci wanted him to take the job, not one of these highly recommended people were from New York. There were some people applying from New York except they were on the other pile that indicated that they weren't as strong candidates.

Mac was supposed to fill the vacancy for his previous position as assistant supervisor _and_ hire someone to fill Bertie's position when he left. However conveniently for Sinclair and rather inconveniently for Mac, budgets had been dramatically cut and realistically the lab could only afford one new employee.  
Sinclair himself had only been in office for a year, and so he was testing the water before he found his comfort zone, at all costs he wanted to stay in control. He told Mac that it was his choice and he alone had the power to employee who he liked at the lab, passing the buck to avoid being the one to blame if it all went south.

There were lots of Job applications that had been forwarded to the new boss for the position. He quickly flipped through the piles and was pleasantly surprised. He smiled, raising his eyebrow at the one at the bottom of the pile. Stella Bonasera aged 35 from New York was applying for the position of assistant supervisor. He did wonder if it was a mistake that she hadn't made the recommended pile, because seeing that she wanted the job, she was certainly Mac's first choice.

Mac's cell buzzed and Mac answered "Taylor" leaning back in his chair as he listened to Don on the other end of the line who was shivering at a very cold crime scene in Madison Sq Park. He stood up and grabbed his leather jacket "Okay, be right with you." Mac replied shortly and hung up, searching for new CSI's would have to wait until later.

Mac quickly rounded up the team and assigned Stella and Aiden to work the case with Don while Bertie finished off some paper work from the last case he worked, Mac was feeling generous and wanted Bertie to leave without any loose ends. Bertie greatly appreciated his new boss's kindness; he hated the job and couldn't bear to have it dragged out any longer than absolutely necessary.

Mac took a quiet roll at the crime scene, evaluating Stella for her job application. Although at some points during the morning she seemed a little bossy, she showed strong leadership skills, her colleges found her easy to approach, she was able to communicate the tasks that needed doing and she knew exactly what she talking about. All things that Mac already knew about her, he just wanted to form an unbiased opinion to responsibly fill the position.

It had been he in fact that had advised her to go for the position before he had been selected, she hadn't at the time applied but he always knew she had what it takes and more to do the job and do it well. He smiled, realizing she'd listened to him. Mac's thoughts drifted to the CSI he still had to employee. He wanted to take Calucci's advice and employee someone from New York, some one that knew the streets.

.

.

Danny Messer stood at the Crime Scene; he nodded at his friend, Don, who'd in haste, ducked under the Yellow tape and ran off in the direction of the squad cars. The officer looked down and folded his arms across his chest; where was all the excitement? His old training officer had pissed him off and he had been plunged into a foul mood. He glanced over again to Flack, who was yelling at a man in a hoodie. In all honesty Danny was feeling slightly jealous. Yet again he'd been given the boring job of standing on the outside the crime scene tap to tell people it was a crime scene. He wanted to be on the _inside_ of the tape, where the things of interest were discovered; he'd taken the exams in forensics and passed with a distinction. He just wasn't yet a detective, which he needed to be.  
The outsider shivered slightly in the chilly conditions and politely told some people to get lost. How stupid could these people get? Couldn't they read? The bright yellow tape gave the game away really. He knew he was being cynical but he felt like he was being treated like a rookie. Some of the sergeants and detectives saw him that way and it wasn't justified anymore.

He looked over to the forensics team and suddenly his interest fell into the case, the Crime Lab had just acquired a new boss and his attention was brought to what he and the rest of the team were doing. Danny was sick and tired of his job on the beat, as an officer. He had taken the detective's exam last week and was anxiously awaiting the results. He'd wanted to be a cop ever since he could remember; his dad was a cop, and his dad's dad, in fact most of his family worked on the right side of the law. Now, however he wanted to be off the beat and instead be in a forensic investigator's role. He thought of his family, and what they'd say to him when he told them he wasn't going to be patrolling the streets. He hoped they wouldn't care; he would still, after all be wearing the badge. The only problem he thought of was that he might have to move states for a job placement. He would miss his family, his friends.  
Without any former warning his mind was jolted into a frenzy of fond memories of he and his brother when they were children, when they were close. His brother Louie had fallen into the wrong side category of the law, much to most of his family's disappointment and to the rest of the family, they were delighted. His family was a mixture of law keepers and lawbreakers, thankfully Danny had walked on the right side of the line and he had to step up and make up for both of them. He remembered when they'd play around the streets of Staten Island; his brother would always look out for him, now he had to look after his brother. He didn't want to have to move out of New York or out of the city. In their teenage years they'd had a rocky patch, nothing had ever been the same since that night… His thoughts trailed off.

"Officer" Mac said waving his hand in front of Danny's face.  
"Sir?" Danny replied,  
"No," A voice said sternly, immediately causing Danny's head to snap up and focus on the man in front of him. "Don't call me Sir. It's Mac Taylor." Mac said with a reassuring smile but the need for a quick response returned. "Did you see where Detective Flack went?" Mac asked urgently.  
"Don went that way." Danny pointed in the direction of a police marked car. "Went to talk to the suspect caught fleeing the scene."  
"Thank you." Mac mumbled gratefully and swiftly walked to Don. It didn't go unnoticed that the young officer referred to Detective Flack as Don, revealing that the two of them already knew each other.

Seconds later there was a radio callout. "Calling all available units. Officer Davis, 8763 in pursuit of suspect fleeing on foot. North side, heading towards East 26th. Suspect is armed and dangerous. Suspect Male, 5 foot 5, approximately aged mid 30's, wearing a black hooded sweater and blue jeans." The broadcast was sketchy and it crackled. The officer was obviously in distress, out of breath from the chase. Danny was close to the area and gestured to some of the other officers on the other side of the cordoned off area to cover his current position while he ran in pursuit.

"Visual on suspect. 9104, Officer Messer in pursuit on foot heading east" Danny declared over the radio.  
"Messer, this is Flack." Danny heard Flack's voice buzz. "Run west, Taylor and I will cut him off…"

Shots were fired.

"Officer down, immediate assistance needed 11-99." He struggled, his voice hoarse he took deep breaths, in horror he watched blood ooze from his wound.

"Messer?" Flack screamed down the radio sounding stressed.  
"Flack, I'm fine"  
"Davis?" Flack equally worried.

No answer.

"Davis!"  
Mac took the radio out of Don's hands while he ran in search of his man down. Davis was a good friend of his and his heart raced. This was his fault.

"This is Detective Mac Taylor. All units respond. Suspect Caucasian male, 5 foot 5, mid 30's, wearing a black hooded sweatshirt and blue jeans. Last seen heading northeast, armed and dangerous. Shots already fired." He stated loudly and clearly but even he couldn't hide the urgency in his voice.

Some officers ran around the north boarders of the park, cutting the suspect off. However in reality there weren't many officers attending the crime scene; there a few rookies, a few training officers, the forensics team and Don.

"Taylor 10-20?" Danny asked for Mac's location through the radio on his shoulder as he continued to run.

"North bound, heading east. 20 yards from East 26th, no visual." Mac revealed his frustration in his voice, continuing to scan the area for the suspect.

"I'm about 300 yards from you. He's seen you. Run at him west, I'll cut him off around the fountain."

"Roger" Mac did as the officer suggested, and prayed to god that the young man's intuitions were right, he would have preferred it if the suspected murderer didn't get away on the first day on the job.

The suspect went south after spotting Mac, back tracking on himself. Danny ducked and hid behind a garden wall feature, he lent back and waited, breathing heavily from his running. He held back for the suspect so he could to get close enough to jump him without another marathon run. Something else he didn't cherish about being a cop on the beat.

Danny lunged forward with perfect timing and tackled the suspect to the ground. The unsuspecting suspect was caught and was breathing in dirt. Danny removed the multiple weapons the man had in his possession and searched him for any other illegal items. He found and opened a wallet and found a New York drivers license with picture identification.

"Jason Travers, I am arresting you on the suspicion of murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you." He read the sorry looking man his rights. "Do you understand?" The man was till face down in mud, he said nothing, lifted his head slightly and nodded.

A few seconds later, after the suspect had been handcuffed Mac caught up with them.  
"Nice work Messer." He said lightly slapping the officer on the shoulder.  
"How's Davis?" Danny asked, yanking the man to his feet with one heave.  
"He took a bullet to the shoulder, paramedic's think he'll be alright."  
"What's you're name Messer?" Mac asked once the suspect had been returned to the police car.  
"Danny Messer, Sir" Danny said, standing up straight.

Mac scowled at him, "Mac" He corrected the young officer, shaking his hand.

.

.

Some time later that day, in the evening, Danny had built up the courage to visit the NYPD Crime Lab. He was readying and waiting with an application for the Job vacancy he'd heard about through the grape vine at the station. He took a deep breath to calm his last second nerves and stepped into the building, he'd been here before, but only a few times. The old building gave an eerie chill down his spine; he ignored it and strolled into the reception, looking confident, but feeling like nervous wreck inside. It was a feeling he could not explain. He felt like his whole future was riding in the very moment and what happened inside this building now, had the power to change everything, this scared the living daylights out of him. Danny couldn't shake the feeling that getting a job here in this lab would change his life forever. While he stood, swaying on his feet slightly, he sighed and dived into a deep trance of thoughts.  
Danny had gotten off shift at 6pm that day; he went home to his small apartment building, thinking about they day's events. He hoped that someday soon he'd be able to work in the crime lab; forensics was all he wanted to do. Before he went inside he stopped off at his PO BOX where his exam results were waiting for him. In a dramatic haste he opened the envelope there and then in return a grinned formed from ear to ear. He'd made Detective, Level 1! Sometime between that moment and now, he'd made his way over to the lab.

Mac had just finished writing up Stella's evaluation to show Sinclair, he walked past after picking up some files from the receptionist  
"Officer Danny Messer." Mac said politely, "What can I do for you?"

"I was actually hoping to give you theses." He waved the application form and necessary certificates at Mac and then pushed his glasses up at little to rest more comfortably on his nose. Mac silently sighed; hopefully wishing it wasn't more paper work.  
When Mac walked closer and once Danny's hand steadied, he caught a glimpse of what it was that Danny was holding. He closed his eyes for a few seconds longer than necessary, knowing that this would have be the very next task he would have to address. He sill hadn't gotten around to looking at about half of the other applications.  
"And it's detective now." Danny said proudly, he looked up and then produced the letter he'd just received along with his other credentials that would make him a good candidate for the job.

Mac took the paper work and walked with Danny to his office. As they walked Danny was looking around into the labs, where various tests were being done, in amazement.  
"I don't want to disappoint you; I've had many applicants. I can't guarantee anything at this time." Mac explained with friendly hand gestures while the two walked through the door.  
Mac pointed to a chair on the opposite side of his desk and indicated for Danny to sit there. He walked around his desk and sat down, feeling important for the first time as head of the NYPD crime lab.

"So what kind of experience do you have?" Mac asked, leaning forward on his desk, resting on his elbows.  
"I worked as an officer with the 12th precinct for 2 and a half years,"

Mac grumbled a little but knew that Danny, being only 25, couldn't have had any more experience realistically.

The two Detectives spoke freely for the next hour; Mac decided that he liked this kid. Danny seemed to have had some problems in the past, but he didn't consider them to be a burden, he thought that the past had been a positive influence and had shaped him to the way he was now, a strong willed, trustworthy, first grade detective. So what if he'd had a slightly rough go of it? During the unofficial interview Danny had said "It's what happens now that more important and I have the power to change that."  
Mac couldn't help but apply the wise words to his own personal situation, oddly enough Bertie had said something similar to him a month or so ago.

"How'd I do?" Danny asked with a grin, feeling far too overly confident now.  
In return Mac smiled, not revealing the answer either way, much to Danny's annoyance. Mac already had a pretty good idea of who he'd employee to fill the positions the lab had vacant, Detective Danny Messer and Stella Bonasera were the best New York had to offer.

* * *

**_Hehe, Thank you too all that have reviewed already, they always make me smile. xD  
If you liked the chapter please let me know, If you didn't then let me know that too xD  
Hopefully you guys won't have to wait as long for another chapter but unfortunately I cannot promise anything :O_**

_**Review Please (: & Thank you for reading.  
**_


	3. Insomnia

**AN**

**Apologies in advance for this chapter, not entirely happy with it I guess but hey, it's been almost a week and I wanted to upload something… Let me know what you think (:**

Chapter 3 – Insomnia

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.

Night had fallen over New York City, but by no means was it dark. Streetlights, shop signs and the moon lit the way throughout the big apple. Mac was looking out from his office window, wondering whether he should go and talk to Sinclair now or in the morning, it was a little after nine and he wasn't even sure if Sinclair would still be at his office.  
Bertie and Aiden had left and gone home for the night, Stella was finishing up on some paperwork and still quietly working at the lab. She had been passionate about the case they had just closed, she wanted the paper work to be perfect to get a solid conviction and it had hit home a little. Mac thought of his home, the home he remembered was a warm apartment with ornaments and flowers and things everywhere, Claire's things everywhere. He looked down, thinking that moving her things out wasn't enough. He'd have to move out of that apartment all together, the building alone inhabited to many memories that he did not want to be reminded of on a daily basis.

The crime lab was not a very high building compared to the rest of New York, The morgue was part of an old church that was adjoined and the lab was a three story high building, it was old and falling apart. The street that it faced below was a quiet road; there were some shops opposite and above them apartments. One coffee shop in particular was a shop that Mac was now a loyal customer. Mac looked up again, looking directly opposite into the living room of an apartment of the third floor, he always wondered why the people in apartments above the shops didn't close their curtains. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes going back to his thoughts of matters of work.

A few minutes later Stella crept up behind him and stoop in the doorway of his office. Mac had not moved and was morosely staring out of the window; he pretended not to notice her, he had however, seen her reflection in the glass.  
"Something bothering you, Mac?" she asked, her voice full of kindness to her seemingly tense friend.  
He partially turned round to face her, "no, I'm good." His hand still lent on the window sill and he was about to turn back but she interrupted his actions.  
"Have, you... Urm" She stalled, stealing a glance away to his desk and back up to him again.  
Mad nodded, with a tight smile and turned to face her fully.  
"Awhhh! Mac, c'mon! Don't do this to me!" Stella moaned while Mac filled his expression with innocence. Stella stamped on her feet a little and shifted her weight from one foot to the other while Mac walked over to his desk and sat down.  
"I saw you checking me out at the crime scene." She stated, sitting down on the chair that Danny had previously occupied, crossing her legs and leaning back. After the words slipped past her lips, she couldn't take them back much as she wanted too. She had not meant what she'd accidentally implied.  
Mac's head snapped up, horrified with what she had said, in fact he could not quiet believe his ears. He was certain that hearing was perfectly sound and anger swept across him and he felt his face heat up. Four months! _Four months_ was all it had been! He could not, and would not look at another woman in that way. Ever. He could not imagine ever feeling love like Claire's, Claire had been his whole world and now it had all come crashing down he was distraught, beyond repair. The love he had could not be replaced. Mac opened his mouth to express his thoughts in a louder manner, but he was interrupted before he started.  
"For the Job, Mac" she quickly added, realizing that his next words would not have been amongst the kindest he'd ever said to her. "Checking me out for the Job application." She reiterated knowing that she'd used the wrong words; the right ones were still lost, suspended in her lungs.

"Ahh" he nodded, feeling a little flustered and ridiculous for how out-of-hand he had almost been to a very close friend. He remained silent with a poker face, not telling her if she'd got the job or his true feelings for what she had just said, which was anger. Anger he knew he shouldn't feel. Stella had the right intentions.  
She signed, hoping that she was not being too out to place by asking, she knew they were close but she didn't want to overstep the professional boundaries that had now formed. She knew she had well and truly sky rocketed above them now. What was she thinking? She sunk in embarrassment and her heart sank plummeted, she wished the floor would swallow her whole, but to her dismay it stayed grounded. Why did she feel like she'd been punched in the gut?

When a few minutes of silence had ended, "I have a pretty good idea," he confessed, "In fact I was on my way to see Sinclair about that now."  
"I thought he said you could have who ever you wanted." Stella weakly protested, knowing that he was deliberately leaving under the now tense atmosphere she had so delicately created. " I still need his signature." Mac stated with almost no emotion.  
He pulled his jacket on, opened the door and waited patiently for Stella to get up and lead out.  
"There are complications" He said and when Stella didn't respond he decided to explain further "In my opinion, the best suitable applicants for positions are not necessarily on the recommendation list." He said to Stella who looked slightly horrified and hurt. She grumbled slightly before heading out Mac turned out the office light and followed.

.

.

Mac decided to take a walk to cool off and so he walked to Sinclair's office from the Lab. It was a chilly evening that had followed the day and was perfect for drowning out his heated temper. During the walk up down he thought about what Sinclair would think, first day on the job and he was already questioning the Chief commissioner's judgment. In fairness Sinclair had not seen Danny's résumé and so if he was lucky Sinclair might take a liking to Danny in the same way he had. Mac quickened his pace as the cold air hit him and chills traveled down his spine while the ice breeze nipped at his ears  
Mac walked in and sat down on the chair opposite Sinclair.  
"Taylor." Sinclair said shaking his hand.  
"Sinclair," Mac replied.  
"What Can I do for you?" The chief commissioner asked.  
"I thought I'd run by you the people I'd like to employee."  
Sinclair paused at the word 'people'  
"Your budget only allows you to employee _one_ new CSI." Sinclair reminded Mac with a harsh cut tone.  
"I realize that." Mac held himself back from saying something that he could regret later. He bit his lower lip thoughtfully "Stella Bonasera," he said finally.  
Sinclair nodded, it been a sort of experiment or test, and he had been expecting this result. "Are you sure? Are you making a responsible decision as a boss?" He quizzed, thinking that Mac had just said this to help out a friend.  
"I have done the necessary evaluations," He said handing Sinclair one of the files he carried with him.  
Sinclair grumbled slightly, wishing that he could have avoided the situation he was faced with now.  
"You said it was _my_ decision, _I_ can employee who_ I_ like." Mac reminded Sinclair.  
"Who's the other?" Sinclair asked, pointing to the other file in defeat.  
"Detective Danny Messer." Mac said handing him the file.  
"Messer? I don't remember reading an application for Messer."  
"No, you wouldn't. He came to me today with an application."  
Sinclair flipped open the file and looked down.  
A few moments of silence while Sinclair read the file, he face dropped.  
"Taylor." He began slowly, "I'm not sure I can allow you to make this decision."  
Mac scowled at the undermining tone in Sinclair's voice.  
"The Messer family, are not exactly squeaky clean."  
"You mean like the other, recommended applicants you sent around to my office." Mac immediately cut in with a tone that implied that he was not going to be persuaded otherwise.

"Officer Cooke was not convicted." Sinclair protested strongly.  
"Detective Messer has never be arrested, questioned or convicted" There was a few long seconds of tense silence "Would you have questioned Calucci's authority?" Mac looked and sounded pissed off. He was, just this once, going to settle for nothing but his way.  
"I can do nothing but strongly discourage you from hiring Messer." Sinclair said simply. "His family are trouble, they'll do anything to cover their own asses. Half of them are in prison and I've had a few run-ins with them myself. Not a nice group of people. He's an off-the-rails messed up kid."  
Mac glared at Sinclair for a while, and he'd thought Sinclair would have taken issue with him employing Stella, not Danny. But Mac was not going to be deterred, Danny had had good instincts, he had been up front and honest about his past and his family.  
"Fine." Sinclair stated. "You make your own mistakes. Don't coming running to me when it all goes wrong. It is your decision, When it backfires it will be your fault." He clicked a pen and sighed his name on the forms at the back of the files. He looked up, "And I won't be there to save your ass." He handed the files back to Mac and then watched Mac leave, raising his hand to his head, he began to feel perhaps he'd made a mistake employing Mac.

.

.

Just over 1 Year Later

_May 9th 2003_

Mac was running around like a blue ass fly, Both Danny and Aiden had called in Sick, Sid Hammerback and Sheldon were so busy in autopsy they didn't have time to breathe. He and Stella were working through the cases together; two heads were better than one.  
The coffee machine had finally given up and so Mac made his way to his local coffee shop that was located opposite from the lab. He needed a break. He put his hand on the door to open it but before he entered his phone buzzed.  
"Dammit" He muttered to himself, he flipped it up and answered. "Taylor."  
He listened to Stella who was telling him to get back to the Lab ASAP. He turned quickly almost knocking someone over, he apologized and ran back over the road to the lab.  
"Stella. This better be good." He said as soon as he got back to the conference room.  
"Isn't it always." Stella teased.  
"Stella." Mac repeated in a tone of annoyance. He felt coffee neglected.  
"Berberis" Stella replied, holding out a photograph of a yellow flower.  
Mac looked at it for a second. "The yellow substance on the Victim's clothing was Berberis pollen?"  
Stella smiled and nodded evidentially quite proud of herself. "You got a location?"  
Stella's smile faded slightly, "Well the flower grows in the south part of Central Park, Strawberry Fields and The Ramble Park."  
Mac huffed slightly, his head begging him for caffeine for the last few hours, he just wanted another to last him the next few hours.  
He took the file from Stella, and flicked through to the clothing tests. A sudden look of realization played on his face.  
"What have you got?" Stella asked, "Tell me what you got."  
Mac pointed at a crime scene photo on another page, "Martha Johnson's jeans were wet, and the splash patterns indicated she struggled near water. "Yeah, the test results told us that the water was acidic, it didn't make sense to me."  
"Last week, the lake was contaminated by some thugs, they dumped nearly 2 gallons of acidic toxic waste into the section near Bethesda fountain, the Environmental Protection Agency cleared the majority of it up but it still left trace in the surrounding water."  
"Strawberry Fields is not far from the Lake or from the fountain." Stella concluded triumphantly although it was Mac's epiphany.  
"I'll get Don on it." Stella concluded quickly, and in haste jogged towards the door. A worried expression played with her facial features when she glanced back to see if Mac was following.  
Mac smiled with a nod but suddenly an overwhelmingly heavy sense of dizziness swept over him. He grabbed the edge of the table to keep himself from falling, but to do that he had stumbled a few feet, enough for Stella to notice. He blinked a few times but he saw everything in double vision swaying, when this and the light-headedness did not ease within a few seconds he collapsed down to the floor, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the edge of the table on his way down.  
"Mac, are you okay?" Stella asked, and then in haste she was knelt next to him, assisting him into a chair.  
"I'm good." Mac protested but he was disorientated and felt slightly irresponsive.  
"DON!" Stella yelled as he passed the window.  
Stella was panicking, Mac was a great friend, they had known each other for years and had become extremely close over the last year, working as a team, running the lab together. She didn't want to think that something seriously wrong with him. Suddenly pain filled her. Mac will be okay. She told herself over and over. Unwillingly she started to blame herself, if only she had pushed further for him to go home early, if only she had brought him proper food last night instead of a granola bar from the vending machine.  
Don heard the urgency in Stella's voice and darted into the room, within seconds he was there at their sides.  
"Mac, buddy?" Don said lightly slapping Mac's face, of which Mac did not appreciate. _Next time I get the chance I'm gonna slap your face_. He silently threatened Don.  
Mac felt a drone of pain fill his head, an excruciating headache took control of his mind, one of the worst he had ever experienced.

A cocktail of emotions flew through Mac's body, heart and soul. He felt his heart skip a beat, he was confused, excited, but most of all scared. Happy memories consumed him of romantic walks in central park with Claire, and her every day presence that had so suddenly disappeared from his life. Heart wrenching memories of that day clenched his heart in a closed fist, indescribable hurt and pain coursed through his core. It had been a year and eight months now and the pain hurt like it had only happened yesterday. He knew his eyes deceived him; there was no other rational explanation for the sight he saw in front of him.

"Claire?" He mumbled bewildered and in shock. Although it pained him physically, he shifted in his chair to get a better view of the woman across the room and he was certain, absolutely positive he saw Claire. He blinked a few times and looked again. She was gone.

"Mac, It's Stella and Don here." Stella brought him back to the real world with panicked words as rushed through her words, merging them together.  
Pain clasped his heart and he was lost, what had he just seen? Was he dead? He felt like the dead. Was he in a dream? Was it a hallucination?  
"I know." He managed, wryly with a smile to both Stella and Don and with that, feeling a little better, he attempted to stand up.  
"I don't know if you oughtta be doing that." Don said, not bothering to hide how concerned he was for his friend. Mac shot a look at him but then as soon as all of his weight was on his feet again he became dizzy and he felt faint once again.  
"I…" He began but dropped back down, just managing to stumble back into the chair. He brought his hand to his head as Don and Stella tried to set him back in place properly so that he wasn't likely to fall over again. "I…Need…" He stuttered across the words on his tongue. The words were there, and irritably they wouldn't form into words.  
"A doctor" Don filled in for him. "Call 911"  
_You must be joking?_ Mac thought to himself. "A… Coffee." He finally told them. "I need a _coffee_."  
"No." Stella said strongly. "You need a doctor."  
"Shall we just take him to the ER ourselves?" Stella asked Don thinking that it would probably be quicker that way and she knew that Mac.  
With one nod from flack, they carried Mac awkwardly to the elevator.  
"Do you think Dr Giles might let us borrow his wheel chair?" Don asked in a sarcastic manner from which he received a scowl from Stella. Don was only being himself, trying to make light of quite a serious situation.  
They got him out of the building and into Don's car without too much bother. Mac's strength was fading in and out. Mac had managed to walk most of the way to the car while complaining that he didn't need to waste the Doctor's time and he was feeling better now, but he went weak again and they managed to get him into the car, sort of sidewards.  
"I'm beginning to see the logic of putting DB's in the trunk." Don stated with a slight smug smile while Stella awkwardly lent across him to strap on his seatbelt.  
"I heard that." Mac croaked from the passenger seat. He wanted to move his arm to his head to soothe his throbbing headache but somehow found it rather difficult and his limbs were being rather uncooperative. When Don closed the door, he settled for leaning against that instead.  
Stella smiled at the light tone of the two men but she was deadly serious when she said she wanted Mac to see a doctor and so she sat in the middle of the back so that she could keep a close eye on Mac.

Don wasn't messing around; he was getting to the hospital in no time at all. Mac felt weak but didn't want it to show, although he knew he looked in a complete state, he tried to conceal how very drained he was, both mentally and physically. His mind darted across memories, of Claire, he had felt so close to her today and he hadn't felt this deeply about her since the towers falling. Blackness caved in around him and made it difficult to concentrate or focus on anything. His thoughts became blurred but the throbbing sensation in his head was winning the battle, he tried with all his might not to let the darkness consume him, the outside sounds of traffic and Don talking began to drone together. He used all the strength he had, but it was in vain. The black carpet of nothingness suffocated him unconscious and without warning he went limp.

"Mac?" Don asked, taking his right hand off the wheal to shake him slightly. "Mac?" He asked more urgently. When he had no response, not even a grumble, which had been every response up until now, he flicked the siren on and watched cars dive out of their way as they sped towards the hospital, never before had Don driven like this. In the back seats, Stella had found some water bottles in the car that Don carried with him, along with all sorts of snacks and goodies. She poured some water onto Mac's forehead after determining that he was very hot and running a temperature. The Traffic continued to part ways for them like they were royalty and within minutes they were at the Angel of Mercy Hospital ER. Flack jumped out and carried Mac in a fireman's lift to the ER.

.

.

A few days later, Mac, Stella, and Flack walked out of the hospital together. While Stella looked relieved, Flack looked slightly cautious and Mac had his teeth firmly clenched as he walked out onto the street, he didn't really care about showing his annoyance. He was quiet solidly pissed off and was in an irreplaceable bad mood for the time being.  
Mac had been in the hospital for days, doing nothing and being bored. He hated lying around; especially when he had nothing to focus on he could not keep his mind occupied. He wasn't aloud out back to the lab and Stella refused point blank to bring his work to him, he wanted nothing more than to get out of the hospital and give his bed placement to someone that might actually need it, but instead he had to sit tight and do nothing.  
Hurt and pain would pour into the void and he would then unwillingly be thrust into vivid memories of the past. He wasn't as if the past didn't hold happy memories, it's was the present day that was the problem, he didn't like remembering the reality. He ended up categorizing his emotions, locking them away from the world. He doubted that they'd ever be unlocked; there was only one person that he revealed his true feelings to and now she was gone and had kept the key.

It wasn't like he was physically incapacitated, he wanted to go for a run and burn off some steam. Which he did, he ran around the hospital, much to Stella's, Don's and the Hospital staff's annoyance but he had to, he knew that if he was lazy and stayed in bed he would not be in shape by the end of the visit and theoretically hospitals were meant to make you feel fit and healthy.

The Diagnosis was that he was suffering from chronic Insomnia. Mac neglected to mention his hallucination episode, he knew from his own scientific knowledge that the doctors would come the same conclusion. He didn't want them to think he was crazy. If he had mentioned it they would do nothing but force him to stay longer, if he stayed any longer he was sure that he'd go crazy and that something he intended to avoid at all costs. After his first course of nonbenzodiazepines and a well earnt sleep he was ready to discharge himself. However his very endearing friends had forced him to stay. He felt imprisoned. There seemed to be no other word for it. He was trapped, they thought it was for his own good, but realistically he felt like the walls were closing in on him.  
It hurt Mac deeply, in a way he wouldn't like to admit, he knew how he'd gotten into this state, it had been a down hill spiral from Claire's death. He wasn't about to blame anyone for this, least of all her. He knew that it was his fault, and his fault alone. His sleeping patterns were irregular, his eating habits were diabolically poor, and he working him self to the ground. He knew that he'd have to make some drastic changes but he wasn't sure how.

It was 8 o'clock in the morning and already he'd accomplished six suduko puzzles and he was on the 8th crossword just this morning, he was trying anything and everything to keep his mind away from the inevitable. This was the last day of this mind numbing torture he was prepared to sit through and endure. Mac irritably began to wind up the hospital staff again, especially the doctors that were only holding him there under the orders of Don. Eventually they gave in and while Stella and Flack were getting Coffee, Mac was discharged. However, unfortunately they managed to track him down before he left the building.  
What was Mac thinking? Of course they'd catch up with him. They were darn good detectives.  
When his name was called from down the corridor Mac Sighed and glared back at both Stella and Don behind him. He wanted to say something, anything to avoid the 'Go home get some rest' talk or the 'Take a few days off ' talk. He continued to walk through the exit doors but by the time the automatic doors opened they had matched his fast walking pace and were by his side.

Mac deliberately walked faster and flagged a taxi from the curb of which he stood.  
"Mac!" Flack called after him as a yellow cab approached him.  
Mac said nothing and was about to ignore him altogether but turned slightly and glared at his friend conveying that he just wanted to be left alone. Mac knew that Flack had brought him to the hospital for his own good, but he didn't appreciate being kept there for no good reason.  
"I have my car. Want a lift?"  
Mac opened the door of the cab "No, I'm good." he forced a tight smile and got in, he already felt the guilt crash down on him a little but he didn't particularly want to be there any longer.  
It left both Stella and Flack speechless as Mac was driven away, both slightly hurt.  
Reading Stella's facial expressions Don comforted her, "He's just pissed he had to stay there for a few days, he's not that mad with us, he'll come to realize that. Give him a couple hours. He'll be fine."  
Stella did nothing, even when Don took a step towards his car, she stayed grounded on the spot.  
"C'mon then" He said, tugging on the sleeve of her arm to get her attention "Let's get back. I don't particularly like this place myself."  
Don caught the sight of her eyes that glistened with tears.  
"Hey, Hey" He said pulling her into a hug. "He knows we did it for his own good. Just give him time to cool off."

.

.

Mac decided to go home before going back to the lab. A few months ago, he had moved now he lived in the Upper East Side in Park Avenue. The old building held too many memories that he didn't like to dwell upon everyday. His new apartment was slightly smaller, but still looked empty and bare compared to any home he'd ever lived in.  
he remembered being a child living in Chicago, he vividly recalled being excited when his father was home and how his mother would always bake, the smell from the kitchen always seemed like home to him. Truth-be told he had contemplated moving back when Claire died but New York had a magnetic energy that pulled him in. He liked the city. Chicago's memories were not pain free either and so he stayed.  
Mac got through the door and dumped his bag on the coach before making his way to the kitchen. After clearing out the refrigerator, as he didn't intend to spend 4 days in a hospital, of the little food he had, most of it was out of date and consequently was now in the bin, he had little to eat.  
After his hospital visit, Mac had now decided that hospital food is rather un-nutritional and has a severe lack in taste. Ignoring the growls of his stomach, Mac took a refreshing shower; he shaved and changed into a suit for work.  
Oh his way to the lab, Mac stopped off at the café opposite the lab and ordered a full English breakfast before diving himself into the delights of the job. He did want to get back to the puzzles, he wanted to engage his mind.

Stella and Don were at the lab when he got there. Stella had somehow managed to dress Don in a lab coat and was conducting an experiment on him. Mac smiled to himself. Don did not look best pleased. but according to Stella it was essential that he took part. He stood watching the two for a short while and wondered how the situation had come about. How had she managed to get _Don_ in a lab coat?  
Mac wound up in his office, apparently the head of the NYPD Crime lab accumulates a large amounts of paper work while being signed off sick. He sat and signed his name on the dotted lines and wrote reports for the last few cases he had worked earlier in the week. The paper work pile didn't seem to decrease much in the time he was working.

A few hours past and Stella and Don had caught the bad guy together. Danny and Aiden were back at work and working on an assault case. They had both been to visit an irritated Mac in the hospital and made a joint decision to keep their distance from their boss until the tension has disappeared and he was back to his normal self.  
Stella stood in the doorway and waited for Mac to look up. When he briefly glanced up he acknowledged her with a faint smile and buried his head back in his work.  
After a few seconds of pause Mac surrendered to the deadly silence.  
"Stella."  
She did not move from the doorway, she glanced at Mac to make sure he was okay and not going to need to be rushed back to the hospital.  
"I'm fine. I can look after myself."  
"I can see that."  
Mac grumbled slightly, knowing that he, in the previous months, had not been doing a very good job of doing just that. "Did you want something?"  
"Yes actually." More silence. What Stella really wanted was for Mac to work it out by himself, but apparently he needed more of shove rather than a gentle push. "Mac I am your friend, and I love you dearly and I am not letting you stay here one minute longer. You can either go home or come to have drinks with the guys. Up to you."  
Mac at first was startled with what Stella was telling him, but once it had all registered he realized that outside it had gotten dark. Mac pulled his sleeve away from his wrist to look at his watch. The clock's face revealed that the time was 10:34. Mac nodded and decided to just go home. He didn't want to fall back into his old habits but he knew that it would be hard.

.

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* * *

**AN**  
**Okay this Chapter was just to fill in some blanks about Mac's insomnia and how Danny was hired that CSI:NY left open. I'm not sure how exactly to take it from here. Build up more of a history or jump to present day? Reviews and Feedback would be good! Thank you.**


End file.
